My Girls
by Totallyquirky
Summary: A glimpse into the relationships Matt has with the women in his life. Told from Matt's POV.


**Characters/Pairing(s): **DS Matt Devlin

**Rating:** PG  
**Word Count:** ~1500  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own Law & Order nor it characters/actors. I'm just borrowing them.  
**Summary: **A glimpse into the relationships Matt has with the women in his life. Told from Matt's POV.**  
Warnings: **Slight reference to Episode 1, Series 1.

**A/N 1:** In the episode 'Vice' it's implied that Devlin's mother could be dead ("my mam's dead and my dad's a bastard." "Snap") in the episode 'Samaritan' Matt makes a reference after speaking to DI Chandler "it's like having two mums". So as we know Matt was beaten as a kid I have taken it all to mean that his mum is still about but his Dad is a "bastard". If you have taken this to mean otherwise I apologise.

**A/N 2:** I'm aware I've made spelling mistakes "wanna/gonna/dunno" in places. I haven't done it throughout as I felt this would've made it impossible to read but I wanted to tell it in Matt's voice and give it a London feel – it's not just my terrible grammar.

* * *

My Girls

I get off the phone to my mum - my real one, not the one I work for - promising to pick my Nan up on the way over for dinner tonight only to find Ronnie looking over at me. "What?" He just shakes his head and smiles muttering something about "motherly love", echoing my words from earlier.

I used to be embarrassed about my family, especially how close I am to my Mum and Nan, but the guys tend to leave it alone. Yeah I get a bit of stick but it's just a bit of friendly banter now and again when one of them has taken a message. Whether I have Ronnie or The Guv to thank for that I dunno (I assume they've both read my file) but I'm never gonna to be able to get dear ol' Mum to phone me on my mobile "I can never hear you sweetheart" or "Well I don't like to disturb you, just in case you're on a big undercover op or drugs bust".

I've told her to stop watching The-bleedin'-Bill but she seems to think I'm always knee deep in the murky goings on of London's criminal Underworld with a lot of guys 'gettin' whacked', her words not mine.

Ange wanders over while my eyes are about to bleed scanning over property record and complaint letters, dropping another two files on my desk and smiling her apology making the universal "you wanna a cuppa sign", I could marry that girl.

Cases that aren't going anywhere, evidence that doesn't tell us anything, witness statements so bloody different I think I'm reading about four separate incidents, are all piling up when my phone rings with information about an old case that gets me precisely nowhere, but that seems to be the theme of the day.

I mooch out to the kitchen and get in Ange's way while she makes several cups of tea and rolls her eyes at me while I bitch and moan about my day so far. She hands me my cuppa and asks what I'm doing for lunch cutting across my rant about slow walking tourists (everyone's fair game today). That's what I love about Angela, no one else in the office would even bother to listen to me but not only that she also knows exactly how to distract me, food.

I tell her unless we get a lead I shall be sat on my arse and she suggest the little Italian café round the corner and I start dreaming of Calzone when she shakes her head and says something about "remember you've got your Mum's cooking tonight".

Probably lamb casserole with barley.

Ange giggles prettily and I realise I'm slapping my chops at the thought, I give her a grin and a wink and say "it wasn't food I was thinking about", which as I'm talking to Ange earns me an eye roll and a "thinking is all you're going to be doing buster". I laugh and she blushes which mostly cancels out her 'couldn't care that your flirting with me' attitude, so I feel a little better.

I amble back over to my desk nursing my tea and get lost in more bleedin' paperwork for an hour or so before my coat is flung at me and Ange and I head out the door with a shout from Ronnie telling me to make sure my phone is on. Jesus, you forget _one_ time!

The Café is tiny and the condensation on the windows is so thick it's starting to run. There aren't many tables but we squeeze ourselves into the corner and Lorenzo (the owner) flirts with Ange while his wife goes about nosily cursing in Italian behind the counter.

I'm half way through my lasagne when my mobile rings and Ronnie tells me to get him a pesto and mozzarella Ciabatta, with those sundried tomatoes and extra parma ham. Lazy git.

Ange is telling me about a bad date she had at the weekend. The guy sounds like a prick and I tell her that if he couldn't make the effort to at least wait with her at her station till her train arrived he wasn't worth her time. She smiles although it's not a real one and says it's easy for me to say. I fix her with my best "I ain't talking bullshit" look and tell her that no guy worth his salt would leave a woman, standing around on her own late at night, unless he is a total wanker of course.

She tells me the reason which I'm sure is the lame excuse he gave her, about having to run to catch his last tube. I tell her its crap and ask what his name is.

"Why?" She looks slightly confused, before it turns to suspicious. I try my best to look innocent unfortunately that look now only washes with my Nan – god bless her. "I could have a word. You know, let him know not to leave someone I care about standing at a deserted station alone late at night". She goes scarlet and I realise what I've said (it's all true though) but she stutters through her sentence telling me that isn't at all necessary and then thanks me. I wanna reach over and give her a hug, she's had a run of bad luck with blokes recently but I'm pretty sure she'll think its pity and that ain't true.

I change the subject to me, telling her about all the embarrassing dates I've had and all the times I've made a total tit of myself around women and soon she's belly laughing at my idiot self and I feel better just for being the person to cheer her up.

The girls are at the desk when we walk back into the station, they all smile and greet us, most of them are lovely but there are a couple that can be bitchy and I've heard the odd comment here and there about Ange and by a few of the looks she's is getting I wouldn't be surprised if our lunch out will be the talk at the desk for the next half hour as they've probably all ready this week's _Heat _and have dissected the many love lives of the rich and famous. Meaning we're completely fair game.

I make sure to lean into Ange's personal space and say something in her ear (you gotta make the gossip a little juicy after all) while I give her a one armed squeeze before we head through the double doors to the stairs, only to earn a not so friendly punch to the arm once the doors have swung shut.

"What?"

She looks a little pissed and for a moment I'm worried I've pushed it too far. "Stop giving them ammunition." I try to laugh her concern off "Hey, you got to make the gossip worthy of being gossip." And her colour starts to rise, her neck and chest are blotchy, she turns quickly and marches up the stairs ahead of me. I start up the stairs after her "hey, wait a minute" she turns to face me looking about the corridor quickly. "I don't need them thinking that anything is going on." She puts on a slight Essex accent that makes me smile "poor delusional Ange, thinking that a guy like Matt would ever be interested in a girl like her."

I suddenly have the irrational urge to find out who it was in Ange's past that's put all this bilge in her head and beat the shit out of 'em. I'd be lucky to get a woman like my Angela, and then I feel guilty for making her the subject of gossip for my own amusement. I grab her wrist and give it a little squeeze. "First of all, you Mrs are _waaay_ too good for a bloke like me-" I ignore the tiny snort that comment produces "-and second of all, I am truly really sorry but, the jokes on them, not ever on you Ange."

She fixes me with a look, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. I know she's looking for any sign that I might be playing her and I stand my ground I'll let Ange scrutinise me for as long as she needs too, as long as she knows that I'm not mucking her about, I never would.

I watch as her face becomes neutral and she raises her chin. "Fine." She says "but I expect a doughnut as an apology for my afternoon tea, which by the way, you are also going to make me." She harrumphs slightly as if to say 'so there!'

"Done." I grin at her. I'd buy her afternoon tea at Claridges if it stopped her hurting.

We walk into the squad room laughing and all I get is a "did you get my bap sunshine?" before I'm being dragged out again by Ronnie. I throw Ange a smile and tell her, "it'll have sprinkles on" which earns a "Oi! Oi!" from the lads in the office but at least she smiling at me again and I don't have to tell my Mum and Nan that I upset the lovely girl in my office (worryingly my mum and Ange seem to talk quite a bit) over dinner tonight.

Finis


End file.
